


Where the Heart is

by Atomrealm



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Christmas, Fluff, Pre-Arrest, actually the ending is just real sad press F, and post arrest, and some angst i think, childhood fanfiction, stories about the whilty family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atomrealm/pseuds/Atomrealm
Summary: Multi-chapter fic, focused on Malcolm and Ainsley's childhood, memories from before and after the arrest of Martin Whitly.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Where the Heart is

**Author's Note:**

> So! this is my take on some childhood fics, about our favorite siblings, because Chris Fedak forgot to feed our crops on the childhood content, jk hope you enjoy!
> 
> I do not own these characters Fox do.
> 
> Also big thanks to @procrastinatingsab for motivating me to start this <3

She wasn’t accustomed to being around her childhood home as often as before, after Malcolm’s departure to Quantico, it was just Mother and her, filling the spaces which were once covered by laughs, info dumps, and ragged screams during the night. 

But here she was, looking at pictures of what her mother loved to call ‘Her socially bizarre children’. Surprisingly for a part-time drunk, there were piles of memories, pictures, souvenirs, and this is where it started.

҉ 

“My sweet Jess don’t you look lovely tonight” Martin held her closer, her features standing out under the lights of the freezing night of New York, the kids by unpopular demand had wanted to spend Christmas outside, playing in the snow, ice skating and eating dinner at expensive quality restaurants, of course, it was nothing they could not afford, so here they were.

Martin couldn’t feel any luckier, having both his children and wife just for him and nothing more, pulling a few strings at the hospital to get the night off, spend some quality time with his family, what else could he ask for. Watching the children run and tripping over the frozen pavement.

“Wy don’t we go inside, we could do some late hours extra-shopping” Martin guided them all inside a local shop, letting the kids explore the place.

\- “Go look for something you like while mommy and I buy some things for tonight ok?” 

\- “Alright daddy” they both echoed, Malcolm, taking Ainsley by the hand to the game’s section. 

\- “Do you see anything you like?” 

Ainsley pointed at the real-sized dollhouse covered with sparkles and shiny decorations, a smile wide on her face, almost skipping in one foot at the sight of the huge toy. “I like this!!” “Tell mommy to get it for me!” 

He gave it a quick glance, remembering how spoiled her little sister actually was, and not surprised to see her picking such an extravagant gift, he neared to one of the employees to ask for the dollhouse. “Hi- excuse me, do you know how much the Dollhouse is?”

\- “Sorry kid it’s not for sale”

“What? Why?”

\- "Decoration of the shop, can’t sell”

At this point, Malcolm didn’t know what he was more afraid of, keep talking and arguing with the employee, or get back to her overly excited sister that would end up throwing a tantrum.

Either way, both seemed like pretty terrible outcomes.

“Ains, the dollhouse is not for sale” All he could drop from his mouth, waiting for the circus to unleash. “I- I’m sorry”.

He just stood, actually, they were both standing, Ainsley still not saying a word but her face speaking louder, her eyes watery, cheeks red.

Mental countdown 3,2,1…

“MOMMY!!”

Malcolm closed his eyes flinching at the megaphone that was his sister waking up the entire city. 

Jessica came rushing at the sound of tears and screams from the 8th corridor, watching Ainsley dropped on the floor and a petrified 9-year-old Malcolm not knowing what to do but patting her sister’s foot in a ‘calm down’ way, while the employee rushed to Jessica formulating an explanation.

“What is going on here! Do I need to call the police?!” Jessica grabbed Ainsley to hold her in her arms, Malcolm standing next to Martin, holding his hand for protection.

“Oh listen, miss my biggest apologie-”

“What did you do to my little girl! You made her cry during Christmas night, soulless bastard!”

People around watching the scene, some rushing away to not be held captive under the drama. The least they wanted was to appear as accomplices in the headlines: “Whitly family crash local shop, child and mother make a tantrum, husband and son watch in despair’.

“Mommy the bad person said I can’t have the dollhouse I want” Ainsley crossed her arms frowning and lips pressed together.

“Oh did he sweetie?” Jessica gave a death stare at the employee.

“Look, Miss, I’m very sorry but the Dollhouse is not for sale, it’s part of the local, we can’t really take it out”

Jessica chuckled “Well that’s a pity, isn’t it” “How much are you willing to accept then? Three hundred? Five? We can make it whatever you want dear, it’s my baby’s little house.” She began waving her wallet around emphasizing it wasn’t bullshit.

“I-uh Miss I would have to, refuse it’s not on my power to accept the sale”.

“Jess darling, you know we can just find something else, no need to call the attention” Martin held her around whispering in her ear eyes darting around.

“I’ll call all the attention I want, my Ainsley is getting her Christmas present” she was persistent.

“Well, who do I have to talk to then? We can rise it up if that’s what’s holding you down.” 

The employee finally agreed to take both Jessica and Ainsley to the manager’s office, leaving Martin and Malcolm behind at the shop.

“What are you looking at son?”

Malcolm was now in the book section, Martin knew his son too well, he didn’t care about the toys, he could swallow books like no other kid his age.

“Dad, Have you read this?” He held a hardcover version of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’. “It looks huuuge” He chuckled, the kid always had a smile to offer, and Martin enjoyed that. 

“Well of course I have Malcolm, it’s a fantastic book I must say, long, but fascinating!” Malcolm’s eyes widened, already thrilled about knowing more. He looked at the cover again, a smile forming while holding the book tighter to his chest with precious value.

“I think this is what I want my Christmas Gift to be” He looked at his father with pleading eyes yet so humble, Malcolm had always been a simple kid, he didn’t care about the ostentatious things, and that made him a special one. It almost reminded Martin of him as a kid, plain and natural, he really was like his old father.

“Alright then my boy, Let’s go look for mommy and your sister shall we?”

Malcolm held his hand following Martin to the cashier line, where Jessica and Ainsley had convinced the manager with the power of wealth.

“Well isn’t it lovely, we all got our Christmas gifts in the end!” Martin kissed her wife while wrapping both his children in a hug. 

“We did daddy! Now we can all go play at home!”

Martin squinting his eyes and smiling at his daughter accepting Jessicas offer to hold her while she paid for the Dollhouse. 

“We are good to go! Darling let me call Adolpho to get us home.” Jessica held out a hand for Malcolm to take it, leaving the scandalous scene in the past, heading home for a sweet Christmas night.

The night resulted in board games together, cooking and dancing with Dad’s favorite music, as it began getting late, Jessica got Ainsley into bed, leaving martin to take Malcolm to his.

Malcolm got inside the covers of his bed holding the warm hot coco his father always made for him before getting to sleep.

“Dad, could you read this to me?” Malcolm handed him ‘the Count of Monte Cristo’, eager to start the book already. “OF course my boy, squeeze up!” Martin got under the sheets, turning the lights off just to leave the spinning carousel light to fill the walls, he began:

“On the 24th of February, 1810, the look-out at Notre-Dame de la Garde signaled the three-master ship, the Pharaon from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples!” Martin began gesturing as he went, sometimes raising himself up and interpreting the scene.

No matter how much time had passed, how many pages had turned, Malcolm couldn’t get tired of it, he didn’t want it to end, He loved his Dad, how he taught him about everything, even about his medical stuff and the countless names of every body part he could remember, the endless nights of reading about fantasy, longing for it to last forever.  
Malcolm could not imagine a world without his stories.

A world without his love.

A world without his father.


End file.
